


Broken, Lift

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Series: Sleepy Hollow OTP Prompts [15]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Accidental Touching, Broken Bones, Carrying, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt, Misunderstandings, Sprains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:05:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What happened?" He held out his arm; Abbie latched onto it immediately. "Are you hurt?" What a ridiculous question; of course she was.</p><p>
  <b>Prompt: Person B hurts their ankle, Person A picks them up and carries them.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken, Lift

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, that wasn't the original prompt, but I changed it up a bit. :p From the OTP Tumblr originally.
> 
> I do not own _Sleepy Hollow_. Thanks for reading!

He heard Abbie gasp even from the distance. It was less a gasp and perhaps slightly a whimper, but it immediately sank into Ichabod's ears. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"Lieutenant?" he called, twirling the iron dagger in his fingers. "Lieutenant!" He slashed at the creature and then took advantage of its yowl of pain to lunge forward and embed the knife into it's general... chest region. For all Ichabod knew, given the strange nature of the creature, perhaps what he thought what its chest was actually it's face. Nonetheless, it fell away screeching, and then sizzled to the floor in a puff of smoke. "Lieutenant?" he called again, and turned to get back to where he had last saw Miss Mills.

She was leaning against the wall, although her face was pained. "I'm okay, I'm okay..." She scrabbled for purchase on the wall.

Ichabod spun the knife and slid it back into the sheath, hurrying over to her. "What happened?" He held out his arm; Abbie latched onto it immediately. "Are you hurt?" What a ridiculous question; of course she was.

"Uh, I guess the easiest way to say is that they got the drop on me." Abbie gripped Ichabod's arm tightly, her other hand pressed flat against the wall. "My leg..."

Ichabod glanced downwards expectantly, as though he expected to see oozing blood. Instead, nothing seemed to be amiss, but given the way that he was taking on the brunt of Miss Mill's weight, something serious must have been wrong.

"F... _ugh_." Abbie shifted. "Okay, I can't put weight on it, it's gotta be sprained at the least." She sighed thinly.

Ichabod shifted uncomfortably. "My apologies, Miss Mills. I should have-"

"Don't start that," Abbie muttered. "I swear, if you go all ‘I should have been a martyr’ on me right now, Crane-" She staggered slightly and Ichabod instinctively caught her.

"Miss Mills!"

"We gotta get out of here. Call Jenny. Here." She finagled her phone out of her pocket and handed it over.

Ichabod allowed Abbie to lean against him as he dialled, assuaged Miss Jenny that her sister was still conscious and talking, and then hung up the phone. He handed it back and then looked at her keenly, trying to take his own advice and not worry _too_ much. Abbie _was_ conscious and talking, like he had told Miss Jenny.

"Let's head out," Abbie muttered. She tried to straighten up slightly, and then gasped and staggered again. "Shit."

"What's wrong?" Ichabod didn't loosen his grip.

"Not sure I can walk," Abbie muttered. There was more pain in her voice now. "Which makes this _really_ -"

"I could carry you," Ichabod interrupted. But then he faltered at the look she gave him. "... If it's not too disagreeable. Is that not proper in this century? I understand that it is rather intimate-"

Abbie rolled her eyes. "Seriously, just stop blustering, it's fine."

Ichabod smiled faintly; it wasn't as though _he_ was comfortable with it himself. It was an intimate position, but allowing the Lieutenant to walk could result in further injury. So, like a proper gentleman, he had suggested it, and he would deal with it.

"Alright," he said quietly. "Shall we, then?"

Abbie held out the hand that wasn't clinging to Ichabod's arm. "Careful."

"Right."

Needless to say:

" _Crane!_ "

"Sorry!"

"That is _not_ my leg!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Hey, don't drop me!"

"Forgive me. I'm not used to carrying-"

"If you're about to say something about my weight, I would advise you didn't."

"No. You are petite," Ichabod said, wincing slightly from Abbie's grip on his shoulder. "And powerful," he added. He felt in danger of losing a limb if he didn't add something appropriately satisfactory onto the sentence. Never-mind that he was in fear of losing his life for improper hand placement moments ago. His face was still burning.

"Just take me to my car, Crane."

"Yes," he agreed, starting for the exit.

 


End file.
